There's a famous Golf story in our family. My brother at 17 was playing with my Dad at our local club. My brother was playing the round of his life with birdies on 2 and 4. He was racking up pars elsewhere, and more importantly he’s beating Dad, and he’s never beat Dad. In his thirties my Dad played golf everyday, honing his skill and creating a bit of a legend for himself. Often he’d go straight from work to the range, hitting balls for an hour in his jeans. He has this knack of simply willing putts into the cup. His winning mentality unrivaled. He shared his passion for Golf with all of his sons, and we grew up loving the game as he does.

Into his late 40s none of the Sons had beat the Father. And on that day my brother looked on the verge. He birdied the 9th, and made the turn at 3 under. He was beating Dad by 6 strokes. And he knew he was on a heater, with the best chance he’d ever get to beat Dad. He was hungry. A growing boy, he needed fuel to satiate his grumbling stomach, and he figured anything would do. He went up to the window with Dad. Dad ordered a banana and a granola bar. He knew how to fuel over the next 9. My brother ordered one hot dog, and paused. “Make it two," he said. Two dogs at the turn.

The 10th hole at the club has a tricky tee shot. 4 Iron is plenty to avoid rolling into the bunkers at the end of the fairway. You can’t be short though, as there’s a ravine to clear. It doglegs sharply left to an elevated green. While my Brother had honors, Dad teed off first to allow my brother to finish dog number 2, and he played it perfectly. The hot dogs, consumed in under a few minutes, were not settling well. My brother was slightly uncomfortable. He thins his tee shot into the ravine, OB. He has to re-tee. He survives the second tee shot, but cards a double. His lead was now 4 strokes and the confidence of a young man ordering two dogs at the turn has vanished. He continued to struggle on 11 and 13 carding bogeys and the lead was now only 1 stroke. My brother had the meat sweats, and lacked the constitution to fend off Dad, who was always slow and steady, a par machine, limiting mistakes. The old pro playing at his home club. Dad birdied the 14th and they were all square. My brother capitulated. Bogeys on 15 and 16. Double on 17. The dream was gone. He shot a 33 / 43. Dad went 39 / 36. Two dogs, 1 stroke. They hugged and walked off 18. Dad hadn’t said much throughout the back 9. He looked at my brother, ‘shouldn’t have had two dogs at the turn.’

This was 15 years ago. And we retell this story often. Dad visited Paris with Mom this year and texted a picture of a hot dog to the group chat. He said, 'Parisian hot dog at the turn.’ We will never forget it.